


Inferno

by KoraKwidditch



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Awkward Crush, Bullying, Enemies to Friends, F/M, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Head Boy Neville Longbottom, Hogwarts Eighth Year, Hurt/Comfort, Neville Longbottom is a Good Friend, POV Neville Longbottom, Sassy Pansy Parkinson
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 06:27:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,782
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27598901
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/pseuds/KoraKwidditch
Summary: As Head Boy, it's Neville's job to make sure every student is safe.It's only a coincidence that he keeps finding her.*Winner for Best Characterization!*
Relationships: Neville Longbottom/Pansy Parkinson
Comments: 14
Kudos: 51
Collections: Truth or Dare?





	Inferno

**Author's Note:**

  * In response to a prompt by Anonymous in the [Truth_or_Dare](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Truth_or_Dare) collection. 



> **Prompt:**  
> 
> 
> Truth: (Dialogue) "Why are you being so nice to me?"
> 
> This piece is written for the Discord server, Dumbledore's Armada, flash comp Truth or Dare. Thank you to DarkAngelofSorrowsReturn for hosting this flash comp!

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50632078986/in/dateposted-public/)

[ ](https://www.flickr.com/photos/143851546@N04/50682742662/in/dateposted-public/)

**Inferno**

“Slytherin pig!” 

“Death Eater!” 

“You shouldn’t have even been allowed back here!” 

Neville rounded the corner to find a group of Gryffindors, Ravenclaws, and even surprisingly a couple of Hufflepuffs. They huddled together in a tight group in the courtyard, shouts echoing off the stones of Hogwarts. 

One of the younger Ravenclaws spat at the ground, “You should be in Azkaban with all of your Death Eater friends.” 

A flash of black and green caught Neville’s eyes from the centre of the group.

_Pansy._

“Hey!” Neville shouted as he walked towards the group. “I believe that’ll be ten points from each of your houses, and I will be letting your Heads of Houses know about this."

He glared at each one in turn, placing himself between the group and Pansy, who sat crumpled in a ball next to a stone bench. "Don’t you all have classes to be getting to?” 

The group took one look at Neville—snake-slayer, war hero, now Head Boy—and left instantly. He watched them all retreat to the hall, keeping a stern eye for any stragglers. Once he was sure they were alone, he finally turned to Pansy. She still sat on the ground, her lip split and bloody, hair and robes in disarray. Neville offered her a hand, but she ignored it and stood, brushing dirt from her clothes. 

“Are you alright?” Neville asked as he watched her retrieve her scattered books. He picked up the copy of Advanced Potions and offered it to her. “Shame I never quite got the knack for potions. I hear Slughorn is a fair professor.” 

Pansy eyed him oddly before snatching the book from his hand silently and tucking it into the rest of her pile. 

“You should see Madam Pomfrey for your lip.” 

“I’m fine.” Her words were clipped as she stepped around him, heading in the opposite direction of where the group went. 

Neville frowned at her retreating form. Eighth year for the returning Slytherins had been filled with these kinds of incidents—even Malfoy had been on the receiving end of a few punches. Names and jeers were constantly thrown at Pansy—no matter how hard he and Hermione tried to reprimand them. It was the first time, though, that she had been physically assaulted. 

Neville supposed he’d have to keep an eye out for her. 

* * *

“Parkinson? You in here?” 

Neville knocked on the door to the second-floor girls’ bathroom. He had seen Pansy retreat through the door minutes after one of the Weasley’s products, Weather in a Bottle, was unleashed. Rain poured down from the ceiling, but Neville had ignored it as he followed after Pansy. 

No answer came, so he tried the handle, and found it unlocked. The door swung open soundlessly, and he stumbled into the large bathroom. 

“Oh, hello, Neville.” Moaning Myrtle giggled from the window ledge. “Can you hear her crying? It’s absolutely beautiful.” 

Sounds of sniffles and light sobs echoed from a stall at the end of the row. Myrtle sighed dreamily and floated down to just in front of Neville, reaching out a cold hand to place on his chest. 

“You’ve changed quite a bit since the war, haven’t you?” she giggled again. “All muscle and good looks.” 

Neville felt his cheeks flush. “Excuse me, Myrtle. I need to talk to Parkinson.” He stepped around her, and she began to sob loudly. 

“No one ever wants to talk to Miserable Moaning Myrtle!” With a cry, she disappeared down the nearby sink drain.

Neville sighed and shook his head; that one was a bit batty. “Parkinson? You alright?” 

He heard a sharp sniffle, “Go away, Longbottom.”

“I’m Head Boy; I have to make sure you’re alright.” 

He stopped just outside the stall and placed his hand against the metal door. “I could get Hermione if you’d rather speak to a girl, but I think it would help to speak to someone.” 

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake!” The door tore open, revealing Pansy—eye’s puffy and nose red. Her dark iris’s flashed with fire, indicating that perhaps Neville hadn’t been quite as delicate as he should have. 

“What do you want, Longbottom? Come to laugh and point at me? Tell me you’re happy my father’s in Azkaban like the rest of them?” Pansy’s chest heaved as her voice rose. 

Neville flinched and stepped back, “No—I just wanted to make sure you were okay—”

Pansy invaded his space, her scent of roses filling his nose. She pressed a perfectly manicured finger to his chest. “Why. Do. You. Care?” A jab emphasised each word to his sternum. Neville had at least a foot on her, but her strong demeanour suddenly made him feel like a small child. 

“I’m Head Boy—I-I have to make sure—”

“You don’t have to make sure of anything! Granger sure as hell doesn’t give a rats arse, and she’s Head Girl! So why are _you_ being so nice to me? For a laugh?” Her finger continued to press into his chest, and in panic, Neville reached up to grab it and pull it away. 

The feel of her soft skin sent heat raging down his arm. “Because I worry about you.” 

Pansy ripped her hand from his grasp like touching him disgusted her, which he knew it probably did. “I don’t need you to worry about me. I don’t need anyone to worry about me.”

Then she stepped around him and left, her rose scent breezing by him. The door slammed shut behind her, causing Neville to jump. Her question rattled around in his brain. Why did he care so much? It certainly wasn’t the first time he had stood up for her. 

Last week someone had charmed her quill to write 'Pansy the Death Eater' over and over on her parchment during Muggle Studies—Neville offered her his quill in exchange. The week before, someone angered her Venomous Tentacula, causing it to whip about madly—Neville managed to help calm it and offered to assist her, an offer which was obviously declined. There were many more instances before that, and always Neville was there to help her. 

At first, it had come from a place as Head Boy. It was his duty, after all, to make sure every student was protected. But at some point, that had changed. At some point, Neville began to help her because he wanted to. Because he couldn’t stand to see her upset. Because... 

Merlin’s saggy bollocks. Because he _liked_ her.

“Neville? Are you in here?” Hermione’s voice called from the door. 

Neville realised he had been standing in the same spot since Pansy left, her scent still lingering on his robes. “Yeah, I’m coming.” Just as he turned to leave, he spotted a book in the stall where Pansy had been. It was her Advanced Potions book, and Neville chuckled to himself. 

He supposed he’d have to return it. 

* * *

The Dungeons were cold that night as Neville walked to the Slytherin Common room. The entrance loomed in front of him, the ornate wooden door nearly as large as the one to the Great Hall. 

Echoed footsteps had him turning, discovering a third-year approaching with an arched brow. 

“Could you get Parkinson for me?” Neville asked, butterflies filling his stomach. Sure, he could kill a snake and lead an underground group of students in a Death Eater-run Hogwarts, but the very idea of speaking to a girl alone had him turning into a glorified Pygmy Puff. 

Now both eyebrows raised on the students face, but they nodded and whispered the password to the door’s lock, disappearing behind it. 

A minute passed. 

Then two. 

Then five. 

Once Neville had counted to six hundred, he sighed and pressed up from leaning on the wall. Obviously Pansy wouldn’t be coming out, and he supposed he couldn’t blame her. The last thing she probably wanted to do was speak to him alone. Just as he turned to begin walking back down the hall to the stairs, the common room door creaked open. Pansy slipped out, wearing a pair of silk black pyjama trousers and a matching blouse, hair pulled back into a short ponytail.

Neville swallowed thickly. 

She stared at him expectantly, and Neville realised with a start that she was waiting for him to tell her why he was there. 

“Erm,” He stuck out the textbook, “You left your book in the bathroom.” 

Pansy snatched it from his hand and hugged it to her chest. She glared at the floor in front of his feet. “Thanks.” The words sounded forced. 

“Parkinson, listen—”

“Stop calling me that.” 

Neville blinked, “Stop calling you Parkinson? Why?” 

Her knuckled turned white as she gripped the book tightly. “Just call me Pansy, alright?” 

“Alright,” Neville nodded and scratched the back of his head. “Well, err. I just wanted you to know, my offer still stands. If you want to talk to someone.” 

For the first time since coming out the door, Pansy met Neville’s eyes. The inferno that raged in them earlier that day still held, though it seemed to have faded considerably. She pressed her lips together as she stared at him. 

Neville pushed on; he could do this. He was a Gryffindor. Brave. He could be brave. 

“There’s... a fire in you, Pansy. A passion. Don’t let them stomp it out.” 

Her glare dropped, harsh features replaced with one of surprise. Neville gave her a small smile, hoping that his words helped her. 

“Why are you being so nice to me?” Pansy echoed her earlier question, though this time it was whispered instead of hurled at him with icy rage. 

Neville felt his pulse jump in his throat. She looked so small, so broken, and there was something in him that wanted to help her. Wanted to take care of her. 

“Because I want to,” Neville replied simply. 

Pansy glanced back down to her book, and Neville realised how close they had got—only a few inches stood between them. Pansy looked up suddenly; the inferno stormed with intensity behind her eyes. Reaching out, she gripped his arm and raised on tiptoes, pressing a gentle kiss to the corner of his mouth. Her lips were soft and warm, and Neville stood ramrod straight in disbelief as she lowered back down.

“Thank you,” Pansy whispered, squeezing his arm once. 

Then she disappeared back into the common room, the scent of roses surrounding him as if he were in a garden. It warmed his chilled bones considerably, his face burning where she had kissed him. Neville placed fingers to the spot, an uncontrollable smile turning his lips upward. 

He supposed he’d have to come down to the Dungeons more often. 


End file.
